After we found out one of our teen writing teams won the WSKG radio drama contest, we thought it would be fun to record the other groups’ radio dramas, too. So on our last day of class last year, that’s what we did.

Though these aren’t quite as slick sounding as the one that was professionally recorded and produced by WSKG, our teen writers did such a great job creating these stories that we wanted to share them, too.

Take a listen to “An Injection of Madness,” created by Rose, Romneya, Lexi, Allyson, Noah, and Henry.

And “The Experiment” by Emily, Takoda, Kieran, Drew, and Samuel.

The writing class spent the month of March working on radio dramas for our local NPR station WSKG’s An Ear for Drama contest. The teens listened to classic and contemporary radio dramas to gain an understanding of the genre, read scripts to understand the style,  and then worked in groups to write and edit their scripts.

And they did an amazing job. I was so impressed with their work and knew that we had potential winners in our midst. Out of five scripts, three were submitted to the contest (the other two were not completed by the deadline–maybe they’ll be submitted next year!), and we just received notice that one of our scripts won the contest! Congratulations to Oz, Torin, and Riley on their winning script How to Win at Business!

What does this mean? The winning script will be professionally recorded and produced by WSKG this summer, and then aired on the radio this fall. The teens have the option to perform the drama themselves alongside professional actors. When we know the air date, we’ll share it far and wide, here and on our Facebook page. You’ll also be able to listen to it directly on WSKG’s website once it airs, for anyone not local or who misses the broadcast. We’ll be sure to share that link when it’s available, too.

Because everyone worked so hard, and we know there are parents, grandparents, and friends who want to hear the dramas they created, we’re recording the other four during our last two weeks of class and will be posting them to our blog later this month. We can’t wait to share the fabulous work our teens have been doing this spring!

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

Frozen

The algae swirled like a cloud of mist as I plunged into it. The ducks fluttered and squawked. It wasn’t far now, but it was cold, very cold. The snow covered, and wisps of it swirled down from the sky. Something shuffled in the bushes. Fear ran through me. I froze, and began to sink into icy depths of the river.

—Takoda Warner

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

Waking Up in the Morning

Everything was still and quiet, when all of a sudden, I was swept with a feeling of agony.  I peek open my eyes with caution and a sudden flash of light like lightning pierces my eyes, momentarily blinding me.  I’m still awakening from a slumber and I can just barely make out this shrill, beeping noise that’s getting louder by the second.  My eyes burning and ears ringing, I try to get up but I feel like I’m being crushed by a sack of sand. I wave my hand around to find the alarm, and I press the snooze button.  I gasp with relief and collapse back onto my cozy mattress, as I drift back to sleep.

—Henry Moran

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

The Fire

A single flame leapt up from among the bed of glowing coals. They were spread, some big some small, across the inside of the fireplace. Their tops were black, their bottoms orange, like something hiding in the depths of a dark cave. The fire tinkled like crackling ice, and whispery bits of ash fluttered down from the largest coal, grey, until they hit the bed of embers and shivered away. It looked like a newly uncovered jewel, with bits of dull black stone still clinging to its glowing surface. The fire was a quiet, curled up cat, nestled in a calm night. A night in which the stars would wink out at you in pleasantly unexpected ways and the trees would sway reassuringly in a slight breeze. Leaves would crinkle softly under your feet, and all around bushes would whisper secrets to you.

—Emily Warner

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

Childhood Memory

I’m around 8 right now, and I am in my grandfather’s airplane. It’s a nice sunny day, not many clouds. I am getting a wonderful view by looking out the window at Vermont. Everything looks so tiny. The green trees, the houses, the cars. It makes me feel like I am the ruler of the world. My brother is sitting next to me also looking out the window. I watch as we fly around, admiring it the whole time.

It comes time to turn around and my grandpa turns to me and says, “Would you like to fly the plane?”

“Yes!” I reply, practically jumping out of my seat with excitement. I climb over into the passenger seat. Before I get started, Grandpa tells me that I can only touch the steering wheel, and I can only move it a little bit to keep it steady. I nod my head since I know that this is expensive and one wrong move and I can crash it. Then he puts the headset on me and shows me how to talk to him through it.

The feeling when Grandpa put it on was awe. I couldn’t believe I was about to fly an airplane. Then he tells me through the headset that I can take a hold of the wheel. Trying not to let my excitement overcome my focus, I grab it.

And then I begin to fly.

I have been steering the plane for a while, my Grandpa occasionally adjusts it when I turn it a little too far to one side. I sit there, feeling ecstatic and relaxed as we head back towards the airport, where my parents and my Grandma wait.

We get close enough that I can see the airport and then Grandpa asks that I leave the passenger seat and sit in the back so I don’t mess up the landing and him talking to air traffic control. I sit back, still really happy that I got to fly the plane.

We land safely on the runway and Grandpa moves the plane to where it needs to be and then we get out. I run to the lobby, where my parents and Grandma are waiting since I cannot wait to tell them what I got to do.

—Riley Knapp

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

Through a frosted window I watch as snowdrops dance.
They flutter down so gracefully, but turn to water as they reach the ground.
The snow begins to coat the arms of barren trees, and slowly hides the tips of grasses.
The flowers are frozen until springs’ warm breath will raise them from their slumber.
Night has arrived, and I step outside to see that a heavy blanket of winter has fallen.
Walking down the charming streets, the only lights come from olden lamps, and strings of flickering reds and greens. The light shines on the snow making it twinkle in the darkness.
The world around me is still; Only silvery threads drift across the night skies.

—Allyson Moran

Seashell

I lift a seashell—the one that
twinkled and shone at me.
In a box with its comrades,
it stood alone. I saw only its color
the rainbow of color, begging to be freed.
I did not see its broken body.
I hold it in my hand. The iridescent color
reflects the light, a reminder of
a mermaid’s scales, or perhaps a dragon’s.
Broken and sharded, ribbed and scaled,
it is beauty—dead and gone.
The broken wing of a lovely bird,
she will never fly again.

—Romneya Quennell

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

A Winter’s Night

It was winter, almost Christmas as we rolled down the icy hill in our little blue car, gathering speed, and sliding into the guard rail. “Stay in the car!” said Daddy, as I attempted to dislodge myself from my seat belt. He exited through Mommy’s door, the side that had hit the guard rail. Fear seeped into me, clawing at my chest.

“How bad is it?” asked Mommy.

“It’s not that bad. The headlight’s out,” said Daddy. “Get out!”

We all scrambled to vacate the car as the dark grey SUV skidded into the other side of our little car. Then the apologizing started.

Next came the semi, skidding down the road. We all scrambled to get over the guard rail. “Hurry up!” yelled Daddy. We all made it over.

The semi smashed into both cars.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Police came and told us to ride in the back of the semi’s cab (which I later found out was illegal).

—Takoda Warner

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

The F-word

It was just another summer, threaded together by cold winters like beads on a string. There was this unmistakable magnetic force that controlled everyone but me. At the drop of a dime someone would suggest it, and everyone would scurry like rabbits after seeing a hawk’s shadow. In a few minutes we would march up, past the blackberry bushes, an ephemeral sight loaded with fruit for a span of a few weeks each year. The frogs would sometimes croak softly, and the trees would shake together, making an odd, natural sort of music. The pathway turned right, and then took a sharp left at a 30 degree angle. We would all file up, one by one, sinking our feet into the often muddy ground and dodging roots that threatened to ensnare our sometimes clumsy feet.

Then, as if on cue, they would jump into the pond. The murky water was shaded on one side by pine trees, dark and sometimes a deceiving yellow. Newts enjoyed hanging around the shore, along with bluegills. I would take up my net like a warrior and try to catch them, often to no avail. When I had tired of that and the cool, deep pool was calling to me, along with the girls, I would wade in, wearing a life jacket to prevent drowning.

I was fast, a strong swimmer, and would often race my companions across the pond, passing them each time. On this particular day I was an innocent, swimming around and living up to my reputation as a fish. Suddenly someone crept up, and I was surrounded.

“Do you know about the f-word?”

I looked curious, did they mean Fernando? “What are you talking about?”

They looked incredulous, apparently the “f-word” was a coming of age ceremony performed on unsuspecting 8 or 9 year olds. One of them leaned in, giggling fiercely, and tried to explain to me. It came out in little puffs, a mysterious jumble of syllables.

“I didn’t hear you.”

They looked embarrassed, but continued on their mission. By the time the day was fading I had been told a few thousand times what the “f-word” was, and I still wasn’t so sure.

—Rose Tolford Chandler

**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **

First Frost

When I first woke up, my head felt cold; I shiver in my short sleeve pajamas and I find myself moving faster when my bare feet touch the cold tile bathroom floor. My body is shocked by the crisp, cold air. When I see the frost on the window and outside on the grass my heart feels excited because winter is coming! I start thinking about all the things I can build when the snow falls thick and a little wet, just right for Snowmen, Snow forts etc. I start imagining the hot cups of cocoa and the cozy warm feeling inside after a long time of shoveling the driveway. I’m not afraid of the cold and I love winter. But this is just the very beginning, just the first frost. There is still time to enjoy fall; the colorful leaves, the raking of them, the smoky smell in the air, apples, cider, pumpkins, thanksgiving. There is a lot of good things about each season, and they’re all different with pros and cons, I learn to enjoy all the good things in each season and be thankful.

—Oz Tay